Foreign Enemies and Traitors (61 page)

“You’re not afraid it’s some kind of a setup, a sting?” asked Donelson.

“Charlie, who’s going to bother to run a sting on a couple of old has-beens like us?  That doesn’t make sense.  And I don’t give a damn anyway—this is still a free country, right?”  He laughed.  “Don’t answer that.  We know it’s not.  Not anymore.  So fuck ’em if they think they can pull this KGB bullshit on us—I ain’t playing.  Free or not, this is still America.  I’m done playing bullshit games with the politicos.  They want to bust me for putting this computer widget in my pocket?  Let them try.  They’re going to send me to some American gulag?  I don’t think so.  Let’s get the hell out of here and go to my place.  I want to see what’s on this thing.”

“You’ve got electricity at your house today?”

“I did when I left.  Let’s go find out.”

****

With no warning, the cave thudded
as if a hand had slapped the hill above them.  Boone froze in place, and a second later he felt more than heard a muffled boom. 

“What was that?” asked Doug.  Carson looked above them at the cave’s roof.

“The car, I think,” said Boone.  “I’ll bet they found the car.  Somebody probably tripped my booby trap.  Well, I just hope it killed some of them.”  He stood up from the table.  “Okay, campers, that’s why we got ready early.  New plan: it’s time to go.  Grab your stuff, we’re leaving right now.  Everybody get your headlamps on—this backdoor route’s not lit, and there’s no guide rope to follow.”

“What time is it?” asked Doug.  “Is it dark outside?”

“It’s almost five, so it’ll be dark soon.  They must have gotten lucky—if you can call detonating five pounds of C-4 lucky.  I just hope we nailed some of the bastards, and that it slows them up some.  They’ll be mighty careful after tripping a booby trap.  But we can’t count on that, so we can’t stay here.  If they found the car, they’ll find the cave—there’s just too many tracks in the snow and mud between there and here.”

Carson said, “If we just blew up a couple of their guys, it’ll take them a while to get their shit together, and by then it’ll be fully dark outside.  You think they’ll be tracking us here in the dark?”

“I don’t know.  There’s most of a moon up, even with the clouds.  Moon over snow means plenty of ambient light.  And they have night vision.  We just can’t take the chance of getting trapped in here.  We’re leaving now, right now.  Jenny, the baby’s been fed?  You have another bottle ready to go?”  The message was implied: the infant had to be kept quiet for their escape.

“We’re ready,” she replied.  “I’m packed.”  Jenny was wearing a brown fleece jacket over a green military sweater, baggy blue jeans, and the dead traitor’s boots.  She kept the traitor’s pack, it was American-made, not Kazak, and its former owner was not going to report it missing anytime soon.  She had to trade her Russian-style fur hat for a hand-knitted gray wool cap, almost like the one Boone wore.  Being seen wearing the fur hat would arouse instant attention from the Kazaks.  Jenny pulled on a green vinyl raincoat with a hood, from the cave’s store of spare clothing items.  The others made their final preparations for departure, slipping on coats, hats and packs, and picking up weapons.

Phil Carson and Doug Dolan had changed to their Army ACU-pattern camouflage uniforms and matching gore-tex parkas.  This was Boone’s idea.  It was now illegal for civilians to possess or to wear this current-issue Army combat uniform, and if they were captured while wearing them, they would be considered terrorists or spies.  Paradoxically, their very illegality made wearing the ACU uniforms more advantageous.  If they could not avoid making contact with their foreign enemies, they would attempt to pass themselves off as a unit of collaborating traitor Americans, and bluff their way out of danger.  Besides American traitor units, the North American Legion also wore the ACUs, with different insignias attached.  If they could not avoid a fight, their foreign enemies might hesitate to fire on “friendly” troops wearing ACUs, and this might provide them a critical edge.  They also carried dark earth-toned brown and green civilian clothes in their packs, in case they had to move through open or built-up areas in the daylight.

With his long hair and beard, Boone could not possibly pass as a soldier.  Nobody suggested that he should shave, or have his long hair cut to military length, just so that he could also wear the ACU uniform.  Boone was Boone, and he obviously preferred to travel and fight in his own manner.  His “Mossy Oak” pattern coat was printed with realistic-looking leaves, sticks and tree bark.  This hunting camouflage was like a snapshot of the dark Tennessee winter woods, and he could virtually disappear, simply by melding into the brush and standing very still.  As a sniper, his ability to disappear from view was a paramount consideration.  His pack and his rifle were likewise camouflaged.  Even his thick Icelandic hat was knitted in shades of brown and gray wool. 

 “Everybody should be ready to pull chocks in five minutes,” said Boone.  Pulling chocks was military slang, it was done just before aircraft took off.  “Now you understand why I was such a hard-ass about getting ready early.  A lot of this route is low, hands-and-knees stuff, so tighten up your straps and slings.  Take your time and do it all right.  The one thing we can’t deal with now is an injury.  Watch your heads, don’t rush it.  I’ll go first, then Phil, Jenny and Zack.  Doug, you bring up the rear.  This is it: this is for real.  If you forgot anything, this is your last chance—we’re not coming back.  Jenny, is the baby ready?  You can carry her inside your jacket, on your hands and knees?”

“I can do it, that’s how I got us in.  I just need a minute to get us set.”  Unlike the men, Jenny carried no rifle, only the pistol on her web belt, concealed beneath her rain slicker.  The baby was awake, wearing a white pajama outfit with booties, and a yellow knit cap.  She was alert, looking around her, but made no outcry as Jenny swaddled her in a blanket and zipped her inside her fleece parka.

They stood on the rough plank floor, helped each other on with their packs, cinched down their rifles to their chests, and turned on their headlamps.  Boone reached above the table and switched off the single light bulb.  He said, “When you see the person in front of you get low, you get low.  Near the end, there’s a little room where we can get organized again.  This way opens onto the side of a creek, and we might get a little wet.  Any questions?  Anybody forget anything?  Zack and Jenny, you both have the road maps I marked?  Good.  I’ve armed the booby traps, so nobody goes back after we leave.  Okay?  Everybody is good to go?  Okay, let’s move out.  Follow me.”

Boone’s parka hood was swept back from his long hair and beard.  His headlamp was on an elastic band, stretched around his thick wool hat.  His rifle was secured diagonally across his chest, keeping his hands free.  He turned and led them out. 

****

Carson hoped that he would be able to keep up
with the younger rebels.  He was older than Boone by two decades, and nearly four times the age of the teenagers.  What he had gained in experience he would gladly have exchanged for twenty-year-old legs.  His left butt cheek ached where the arrow had split it, and his right knee was already sore.  Boone went to a crouch when the cave ceiling dipped, and Carson followed suit.  The path wound downward in a snakelike route.  Twice Boone took a branch smaller than the one Carson would have chosen if he’d had to guess their way out.  After maybe two hundred hunched-over steps, they had to crawl.  The stone walls had been dry, but now they glistened in the headlamps’ beams.  In some spots, water dripped on the travelers, or pooled beneath them.  The light cast by their five headlamps threw bizarre swirling shadows.  The barrel of Carson’s M-16 carbine was tied to his left shoulder strap, the collapsed butt stock to his right hip.  On his elbows and knees, he struggled to avoid dragging the weapon across the rocky floor when the ceiling pressed down on his backpack. 

                After five more minutes and another unknown distance, Boone turned around in a wide area and sat with his pack against the stone wall.  He pulled out his camelback tube and sucked down some water.  From a pocket, he removed a small baggie containing a stub candle and a box of matches.  He lit the candle and set in on a niche in the rock above him.  When all five were in the same small space, he said, “We’re close to the final exit to the outside; you can start to feel the draft here.  Once we’re out of the cave, we’re going a hundred percent tactical.  Turn off your headlamps and put them away; the candlelight will be your transition to night vision.  We’ll just let the candle burn down once we’re gone.  After this, no white lights and no talking.  Hand signals only, or mouth-to-ear whispers.  The cave exit is over a creek.  There’s one more rally point on the other side, and then we’re splitting up: three of us north, and two south.  Just like we briefed, except we’re leaving a few hours earlier.  Let me take a look outside—I’ll be right back.”

                Boone was able to walk in a deep crouch, and in a few steps he was gone from their view.  Five minutes later, he returned and addressed his little squad, who were sitting back against their packs in a tight circle, feet together.  “Okay, we’ve got a slight problem.  The creek is way up, and the water is deeper than I expected.  The ledge that I can usually walk along on this side of the creek is under water.  It’s too narrow to use if you can’t see it, especially since you’ve never done it before.  We can’t risk it; somebody will fall in for sure.  We’ll have to cross the creek right outside the cave.  It’s going to be at least waist deep, so that means you’ll get wet up to your chest—and that’s if you don’t fall down.  It’s freezing outside, so if you get your clothes soaked, you’ll get hypothermia.  Then if you have to stop and lay up to avoid the enemy, you’ll definitely get hypothermia, and that’ll kill you as dead as any bullet ever will.”

                Zack asked, “Why don’t we go back out the other way?”

                “We can’t.  They found the car, so that whole side of the hill is compromised.  For all we know, they found the tracks between the car and the cave.  They might be halfway to the cave already.  By the time we got back there, they might already be at the mouth.”

                Doug had another idea.  “We all have a change of clothes; why can’t we change into them on the other side?”

                “You don’t want to start out with your best stuff soaking wet and freezing.  Your other clothes are for tomorrow, in daylight.  Trust me; I know what I’m doing.”

                “How wide is this creek?” asked Carson.

                “When it’s this deep, maybe twenty or thirty yards across.”

                “What’s the bottom like?”

                “Sand, and smooth rocks.  Nothing too sharp.”

“Any sign of the enemy?” asked Doug.

“No, and when those guys are around, I usually know it.  They use IR spotlights and lasers all the time, and they wear those IR strobes.  I didn’t see any with my night vision goggles, and I didn’t hear anything.  There’s no way that they know about this cave exit.”

“But what about security on the crossing?” Carson asked.  “Who’s going across first, and how are we going to set up covering fire?”

“Phil, we can’t do it by the book.  We just have to get across as fast as we can.  If the eye in the sky is up there, then the quicker we get across, the better.  Stringing it out just means more of a chance for a Predator to see us, if they’re flying.”

Carson said, “So we’re going to bare-ass it?”

“That was going to be my next suggestion.  Carry everything across over our heads, then dry off and dress on the other side.  There’s an old fishing cabin across the creek, maybe a hundred yards down.  That was our next rally point anyway.”

“What does ‘bare-ass it’ mean?” asked Jenny.  “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It does,” answered Boone.  “You’re just as cold either way, but bare-assing it means you’ll have dry clothes on the other side.  But don’t worry; I can carry you across on my shoulders.  You can stay dressed.  Just take off your boots and hang them around your neck, and roll up your pants as high as you can.  Okay, boys, just do what I do.  Take off your coats, spread them out and make bundles.  Put everything inside, and zip them up.  If you have drawstrings at the bottom, cinch them off.  If you don’t, tie your sleeves around the bottoms: just make bundles that won’t come loose, the best way you can.  Tie the bundles and your rifles into the straps of your rucksacks, hoist them up and wade across.  Just make sure nothing gets loose.” 

“What about our shorts?” asked Zack

“Leave your skivvies on if you want to, but if they’re wet they’ll be freezing cold and you’ll have to ditch them on the other side, at least until you get a chance to dry them out.  The whole idea is to keep your clothes dry.”

Nobody joked, nobody objected, nobody balked.  To be alive in Western Tennessee a year after the twin earthquakes, and six months after the arrival of the foreign mercenaries, meant that they were already adaptable and hardy survivors.  The squeamish, the fainthearted and the weak had either died or run away long before. 

While undressing, Boone said, “The water’s not running very fast, and the bottom isn’t too bad.  Make sure of your footing and don’t slip.  Keeping your stuff dry is what this evolution’s all about.  I’ll take Jenny and the baby across first, so the rest of you can follow me, and then I’ll come back for our packs.  When you’re on the other side, Doug will lead you to the cabin.  There’s plenty of moonlight, so you don’t need night vision goggles.  You can use some light inside the cabin, just be careful.  When you’re inside the cabin, use the tops of your socks and the bottom of your pants to dry off, and then get dressed again.  I’m sorry, guys, this is guaranteed not to be any fun.  It’ll be freezing cold no matter how we do this, but at least we’ll have dry clothes on the other side, and that’s what matters.  Okay, Jenny, are you ready?  Stick right behind me.  When I tell you, you just climb up on my shoulders.  If you have to grab my hair, that’s fine.  Don’t worry about hurting me—just stay on, and keep that baby dry.”